I tend to take ownership of bad things that happen to me. I treat them as commentaries on my conduct–it’s better than assuming I don’t have control. Maybe not healthier. So when I lost my ID card (read: my free pass to Pittsburgh’s public transit system, the only way to get into locked buildings, my ticket to the on-campus gym) I started thinking about how to fix the way I use that card so it doesn’t happen again.
I used it to print photos of Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, and Patrick Stewart to write the Arabic words for freckles, eyes, ears, iris, tongue for Friday’s class. Then I packed up, went to a show, and walked home because I had realized at the show I didn’t have my ID. I didn’t do anything wrong.
My exercise routine is hosed until I get a new ID. I couldn’t work out on Friday, and I won’t be able to tomorrow. I could do sit-ups and push-ups in my room, or throw-downs with my housemate. But I believe firmly in habits. I’m in the habit of calling Matt every mid-day and evening. I’m trying to get back into the habit of blogging here every day. I was in the habit of exercising every other day.
What I miss is not just the chance to listen to my podcasts in peace, or stretch without feeling silly. I do feel the anticipatory ache in my shoulders and the tightness in my calves. I am sleeping worse. But what I really miss is my routine.
And not having to pay for the bus.
“The more I practice, the luckier I get.”—Jerry Barber, about golf